


Would Everyone Stop Talking? (I'm Learning As I Go)

by KamaChameleon



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Fire, Multi, The graphic depictions of violence tag will probably be added in the future so be careful, tags will be updated as fic progresses
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-20
Updated: 2020-12-20
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:33:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28190019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KamaChameleon/pseuds/KamaChameleon
Summary: Techno is death, your grim reaper. He collects souls left behind by the dead, and comes off as uncaring for his job, or anything for that matter. Techno is learning more and more as the time goes on, and stranger people come around and go. Some refuse to leave. (My take on 's Heytherestilinksi's Cryptid Au on tumblr, go read it and if you're reading this you probably already know their ao3 but tell me if I should add it :) )
Relationships: Karl Jacobs/Sapnap
Comments: 2
Kudos: 5





	Would Everyone Stop Talking? (I'm Learning As I Go)

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this first chapter mostly at night while I was very tired. If there are typos or mistakes or just things that make no sense at all please tell me. Let me know what you think if you feel like it. Oh also!! If you read this from my google doc the beginning part is still the same and you may want to skip past some paragraphs.

Techno had never seen so much destruction before and so many souls ripe for the taking. There had been the occasional stepped on flower with a nymph somewhere fainting to never awake, or the river rising and drowning a few plants, causing them to slowly die. There had never been this much carnage before now though.

He hadn’t known what to expect, but it wasn’t this blistering heat. His skin felt so very hot and he could smell sweat, smoke, and pig commulating in the air. He suddenly felt very lucky he was not like the nymphs and spirits that lived here, and that he had not worn his over the top outfit today. Though the air was sickly hot, he couldn’t understand what was happening. Was this a very strong drought that didn’t affect him?

He stalked forward to where the now dead souls were calling out to him, and he saw it, an orange, yellow creature. It was not alive, but it danced around as such. It grabbed onto all it could, and destroyed everything in its wake. He furrowed his brows but did nothing as the plants around him were burnt to a crisp, nymphs consequently screaming off in the distance as the same happened to them. _Fire_. The word strung out clearly in his mind, causing him to zone out to the crackling in front of him. 

He shook his head, and continued onwards through the flames, curious as to how they seemed to flick away from him, never actually touching him. He found the first remains of a body, and more importantly the soul. It burned a bright green, as most of the souls around here did. Thousands of greens and browns danced in his vision, all patiently waiting for him to guide them away. If under different circumstances, he would’ve considered this to be beautiful. 

He went to work grabbing the souls, making an effort to cut off the suffering of those almost dead. His hands filled up fast, the souls bouncing around from one palm to the other. It broke him out from the state he went into while on the job, his hands were full, and there were still so many souls left to be collected. He had only ever had to carry as much as 5 back before, now he couldn’t even count how many he had in his hands.

He crouched to the ground, setting the souls down and looking sadly over them. Something told him that they would only hurt until he took them away. He furrowed his brows, staring intensely at the souls as if that would magically guide them to his home. A frustration fell over him, for why he couldn’t tell. He could always just collect the other souls later, though something told him yet again that wouldn’t work out in their favor. He’d never seen something play out like this. It’s always been simple, things live and they die, he just does his job and collects the souls they leave behind, he’s never changed that routine. He’s never had the power or thought to do so.

The frustration leaves him, confusion taking its place. He stares for a little bit longer, pondering what to do, and let’s his brain go on autopilot. He reaches out his hands in front of him, scanning them. What can he do?

The world falls out from under him. He has no time to react, he’s not able to take in all the purple and red before him. He sees the colors take over what shapes should’ve been before him, replacing the trees and bushes. They’re gone just as soon as they were there, replaced with a feeling of the sun being right in front of him but with no heat, just blinding light and a vague feeling of his body disintegrating. He winces and shuts his eyes, but the damage is done. His ears are ringing, and he can no longer think. He shakes.

The world comes back, and everything starts to function. He opens his eyes to find the welcoming darkness of the night embracing him, and to the fire reminding him he is not meant to be here. His hands are still outstretched. He is clasping a wooden handle the size of his arms, a curved blade attached at one end. _A Scythe._ He thinks it’s smaller than it’s supposed to be, but he has no reference. He brings it closer to his face.

The blade isn’t as shiny as he expected, it’s a dull gray, but he can faintly make out shapes sketched into it, none that he could understand. He holds the blade away, and twirls it around. He could probably fidget with it for a little while, though the bigger question of why it was here was more prevalent. He brings the scythe to face him, eyeing it down like it will start talking and giving answers. He feels himself lull forward. Oops.

He calmly sets the scythe on the ground, and touches his face. A couple droplets of blood run down his fingers, and he decides he doesn’t like the stickiness of the substance. There’s a cut right below his glabella, a small space right above his nose. Despite the blood, he only feels a light sting that quickly fades. He lets out a sigh, and picks up the scythe to continue… To continue doing something with it.

He is reminded of the souls when he sees them next to the scythe as he picks it up. They seem to gravitate towards it, moving at an achingly slow speed towards his hands. He holds the scythe out to them, but hesitates. What is happening here? What exactly is he doing? Is this his way of learning the only way to handle this influx is to cut them all down? Is he going to kill them twice over? He doesn’t know if that’s possible, but he knows that’s not his purpose. Still, it couldn’t hurt to test what happens if he let one of them reach it, knowing his other option is to just go home leaving the rest. He moves the scythe forward.

As the first soul reaches the scythe it begins to tremble, gradually shaking in faster speeds. Techno grew a little worried, but kept the scythe in place. The soul then splintered, breaking off into hundreds of tiny particles and fading into nothingness. The scythe took on a small glow, gradually growing larger as more souls began to sparkle away, seeming to become one with the metal, outlining the shapes on the scythe but leaving the wood untouched. Techno stepped back from the souls, assessing what had just happened.

There was a trickle at the back of his mind as the souls had dissolved, the same thing he felt when he brought the dead to his home. It was a confirmation, if the souls weren’t waiting for him at his home, then he had still done his job. He didn’t know if this was a better alternative, but that wouldn’t matter once he was done. He’d gotten this far on instinct alone, he might as well continue that.

Techno began to sweep across the fiery land, playing around with the scythe as he went. He noticed the souls left, if that’s a fitting name, faster if he swiped through them, so he went about twirling the handle in new ways, seeing how that affected them. He was getting used to having the weight in his hands of the handle, and paying close attention to where the blade was so he didn’t make another mistake like the cut on his face. Using the scythe reminded him of other tools that he couldn’t quite put the name on, and he couldn’t quite shake his hands wanting to come down in a chopping motion. The action felt appropriate for the handle, but when he looked to the blade it didn’t make sense.

He looked away from his slicing duty for the moment to see he was approaching the river. The river was very big but shallow, and it was the closest body of water to the fire. All the creatures in the area had come to love the river, even when it took a few lives. They would flock around it and share all their secrets, taking and giving in return to the water. Techno could tell there was life to be formed there, it was lucky to not be affected by the fire which had almost overtaken the entire forest now. The only survivors would on the other side of the river, clutching the banks as their lifeline. 

He didn’t see any souls across the river, so he turned to face away. There weren’t many left now, just a few to his left, which he quickly took. There was bound to be more as the fire raged on though, causing him to stay in the forest a little longer. He observed the plants about to be engulfed, noticing how small they all were. A particular one caught his eye though, a very young sapling, who if he focused on he could see the soul of. The soul of the sapling is orange, not a color he’s seen yet on trees that don’t bear fruit. The orange would blend in with the fire if it didn’t have the faintest white outline to it.

Techno walks towards it, crouching down to see the sapling clearer, and setting his scythe on the ground. He can tell that in a few more years a dryad would form from it. If it were to survive the fire, it would have to learn how to live on its own, it wouldn’t have any other nymphs to lean on, and would have to grow more plants in the dead’s place. Unless… Techno turned his head to the river. 

There wasn’t much life around here. There wasn’t much life in the _world_ yet. He knew this was the first haven of life, and that it was slowly spreading everywhere, but it was all quickly being taken out. Techno hadn’t done much before the first souls started popping up in this forest, he didn’t think too much about anything. When he thought about the earlier days, though he knew this world had experienced them, his memory of them clouded up. He couldn’t just let all the life around him leave, he couldn’t start from zero again. He didn’t know what would happen.

_Do it._

He eyes the sapling again, and begins to dig his hands into the dirt, making sure to scoop up all the roots the sapling planted. He quickly stands, trying to be fragile with the dirt but noticing how the fire approaches quick, and he already wasted so much time. He hurries over to the river, and prepares himself before stepping into the water. He takes his first step, and the water welcomes him, sending a message that it won’t affect him, that it wouldn’t hurt him if given the chance. It only covers his feet, but it’s still a strange feeling, one he rarely feels as there is no water at home, and he only sometimes has to collect souls from in the water.

He moves across the water, and places the sapling down near the bank of the river. If the fire were to somehow spread across the water, the sapling hopefully would be safe. He turns to go again, ready to retrieve the scythe, when another trickle forms at the back of his mind. It speaks no words but seems to have a message, and he wonders if he did the right thing. He turns to face the sapling yet again, and decides to pat the dirt around it a bit more to put it in place.

He stands up again, and suddenly his hands are moving out in front of him. He feels the fire more intensely, and his vision blurs. His surroundings change to dark reds, and he doesn’t know where he is. He goes to move, only to find his wrists are clasped by something connected to the ground. _Chains._ He cannot move. He inhales sharply.

He’s back at the river again, no chains are on him. The fire still can’t touch him. He feels something is not the same. He takes his leave.


End file.
